Photographic Evidence
by StarrFyre
Summary: READER'S DISCRETION IS ADVISED: Ange gets kidnapped and must be rescued and face what follows...Rated M for kidnapping, rape, and drug use.
1. Chapter 1

_A/N This story takes place during the summer between seasons 3 & 4. For the record, I do NOT in any way condone kidnapping, rape, murder, recreational drug use, or anything like that. If any of these subjects – or strong language - offends you, please DO NOT READ. This fic is NOT work safe, nor is it recommended for those with a weak stomach. Reader's discretion is advise!_

_This is my first attempt to write a fic like this. Please go easy on me, and leave reviews! Thanks! _

_Disclaimer: __I claim no ownership of these characters, and no affiliation whatsoever with Hart Hanson, "Bones", Fox, its affiliates, subsidiaries, etc. Please don't sue me!_

PHOTOGRAPHIC EVIDENCE

"Please….please don't do this. Just let me go. I promise I won't tell anyone." Her words were only a whisper now. They edged out around chapped lips, desperate and rough thanks to a throat sore with the effort of sobbing in silence.

He didn't even pay attention now, as he jerked up the zipper of his jeans. He was through with her. For now. As he got older, he couldn't quite get himself up as fast as he used to, unless it was for someone much younger than the beaten woman who lay naked on the ratty blanket behind him. Lighting up a cigarette, he turned and blew a cloud of acrid smoke into the brunette's face, then spoke.

"Keep begging for it, bitch, and you'll get what's coming to ya. You're not going anywhere until Skip gets back after calling that dumb agent buddy of yours. Now shaddup, I'mma take a leak. " He laughed, blowing more smoke in her face, then stood and walked to the other side of the room and into the bathroom.

Angela turned her face into the blanket and coughed weakly, her body shuddering. As she heard him walk away, she curled up as much as possible and squeezed her eyes tight, trying to pretend she was anywhere but here. "Booth…please hurry." She whispered against the rough fabric. She tried to roll over, but as usual, she couldn't. Having her hands bound tightly with twine behind her back was preventing her. She wasn't even sure if her hands were still there, to be honest. The twine had cut off her circulation, and her fingers had long since gone numb. If only the rest of her had lost feeling as well.

As she was allowed these few brief moments of peace, she tried to think back to when they'd grabbed her. From what they said, it sounded liked they'd been following her for days. "Easy pickings", they had called her. After all, the fiancé of the sole heir of the Cantilever group was a high priced item . . . and since she wasn't one of society's ladies, it was fairly easy for them to tail and grab her.

Her thoughts were jumbled, a fact she should probably be thankful for. But Booth would want her to be a good witness. It was hard, when they'd done drugs on the other side of the room, then shot her up with street mixes of coke and heroin. She had struggled and screamed until they beat her into submission. The part of her mind that still had some sanity left didn't even recognize herself. She felt like a shell.

_Jack._ The name drifted through her thoughts, and she squeezed her eyes harder, trying to bring his face to the forefront of her mind. Curly hair, bright blue eyes. Beard. There he was…tears slipped from behind her eyelids as she began to mutter his name over and over again. All she wanted was to be in his arms again. Feel him touch her. She jerked when she actually did feel a hand touch her bare thigh.

Mahogany eyes snapped open only to focus on "Skip", the man who seemed to be the more dominant of the two, who stood over her, leering. "There's no 'Jack' here for you, you stupid cunt. Even if there was, he wouldn't want a slut like you." As he spoke, his fingers fumbled at his leather belt, undoing it and jerking it out of his pants loops. Angela's eyes widened a little – she knew what was coming next. But the fight was gone from her. She couldn't even drum up the energy to protest as the man roughly turned her over to her opposite side, and began to beat her already welt-covered back with the belt.

A faint whimper escaped her as she began to shake, her eyes closing again. He was right. Jack could never want her after this.


	2. Chapter 2 Moving

_A/N This story takes place during the summer between seasons 3 & 4. For the record, I do NOT in any way condone kidnapping, rape, murder, recreational drug use, or anything like that. If any of these subjects – or strong language - offends you, please DO NOT READ. This fic is NOT work safe, nor is it recommended for those with a weak stomach. Reader's discretion is advised!_

_Here is Chapter 2! I don't know why, but this story is just forcing itself into my head awfully quickly. Please review! _

_Disclaimer: __I claim no ownership of these characters, and no affiliation whatsoever with Hart Hanson, "Bones", Fox, its affiliates, subsidiaries, etc. Please don't sue me!_

PHOTOGRAPHIC EVIDENCE

The only relief she ever got was when she blacked out. Her dreams kept her from losing her mind completely. In them, she was safe. She was home. She and Jack were already married, and there was no Grayson that had to be found to divorce. Booth had never been shot, and Brennan's dad had never gone to jail. Everyone was happy. And there was no pain.

But eventually, she'd be shaken awake roughly, or slapped until her eyes opened, like this time. She blinked a few times, catching two more slaps before Skip noticed she was awake. He leaned in close to leer at her; his breath made Angela want to gag. In fact, she had on more than one occasion.

"Wanted you awake for this next part. We aint gonna carry you no more, bitch. Yer being moved and yer gonna walk to the van on your own damn feet." Without further explanation, he reached down and grabbed her under her left arm, pulling her up. Her legs, weak from atrophy and sore from various wounds trembled and buckled. If not for her captor, she would've fallen on her face. Skip didn't even bother giving her something to wear, let alone shoes to cover her bare feet. Holding tightly to her arm, he forced her to walk across the warehouse towards the same black van they had brought her in originally. A cry of pain escaped her involuntarily when she stepped on a piece of one of Skip and his friend's broken bottles of Bud. Instead of pausing to bound up her foot, the man holding her shifted his grip, then punched her in her left kidney. "I TOLD you not to make any sounds, you stupid cunt!"

Angela gagged and swayed before he tightened his hold again and pulled her the remaining feet to the van. His buddy was already there, and reached out to pull Angela inside. She couldn't see the front of the van, but she heard a man's voice that she didn't recognize.

"She give you any trouble?"

Skip shot a glare at the woman, causing her to shrink back into the corner of the van. She hated that she was reacting like this, but she couldn't help it.

"Nah, boss. We roughed her up good, just like you said. She aint gonna be a problem," Skip responded with confidence.

"Good. Here. Give her this. I don't want her seeing where we're going next." Ange had no idea what he was talking about, until Skip appeared once again in her line of vision, coming towards her with yet another syringe. _God, more drugs?_ She knew what would happen if she struggled, but she did so anyway, trying to avoid having her arm caught by him. Impossible, of course, with her hands still bound. Without pausing, he merely punched her in the face, this time, causing her head to snap back against the side of the van. Dazed, she barely felt the puncture of the needle as he roughly administered the drug.

A few minutes later, she lost consciousness again, slumping to the floor of the van gracelessly.


	3. Chapter 3 Rocking

_A/N This story takes place during the summer between seasons 3 & 4. For the record, I do NOT in any way condone kidnapping, rape, murder, recreational drug use, or anything like that. If any of these subjects – or strong language - offends you, please DO NOT READ. This fic is NOT work safe, nor is it recommended for those with a weak stomach. Reader's discretion is advise!_

_Here is chapter 3! Please review…I get more nervous with the lack of reviews, but the continued 'alerts', heh. I hope y'all are enjoying it!_

_Disclaimer:__I claim no ownership of these characters, and no affiliation whatsoever with Hart Hanson, "Bones", Fox, its affiliates, subsidiaries, etc. Please don't sue me!_

PHOTOGRAPHIC EVIDENCE

CHAPTER 3

Rocking

Angela was awoken next not by a slap, but by a gentle rocking. A rocking that did not agree with her one bit. As her mind clawed it's way out of the black, she moaned faintly, then rolled to one side and began to heave. A part of her was grateful there was nothing in her stomach, simply so that she didn't have to deal with the smell.

She raised a hand to her mouth when she was finally finished, and her eyes snapped open in surprise. For a long moment, she stared uncomprehendingly at her hand. She was untied? As she struggled to register this fact while ignoring the raw spots on her wrist, she shifted her gaze to examine her new surroundings.

Strangely enough, she was in a small room. The walls had oak paneling, matching the desk and the bed she was laying on. The décor was subtle, in blues and whites. Blinking in confusion, she continued to look around. This had to be a boat, which struck her as very strange. Were they out to sea? Had they completely taken her out of the US? The thought terrified her. Suddenly Ange wondered how Booth and Brennan would ever find her.

They were still looking, right?

Her breath escaped as she shuddered and shook her head to try and clear it. Finally, she took a deep breath and focused. She was alone, which was another surprise. The only time Skip and his buddy had left her alone before had been to 'take a leak'. She waited a few minutes, listening carefully, trying to see if she could hear them nearby. Not hearing anything except the faint sound of water, she began to slowly sit up. As she did, the world shifted upside down, and her body reacted by informing her of all the welts and cuts she was covered in. Surprisingly, Angela didn't seem to be bleeding anywhere anymore. She had even been washed clean of the blood, semen, dirt, and coke that had been caking her skin before. It took several deep breaths, however, for the world to straighten itself out again, and stop spinning.

Her arms wrapped around herself tightly as she swallowed hard. For some reason, thought of someone bathing her while she was unconscious seemed almost as disturbing as where she was. Her gaze shifted to the bed itself, and she frowned in consternation as she saw a white cotton robe laying next to her. Obviously, it was meant for her, but Angela didn't like the fact that she didn't know what was going on. Surely they hadn't rescued her . . . she had a feeling that if they had, they wouldn't have left her alone.

After several more minutes of consideration, she pulled the robe over and shrugged into it. A hiss of pain escaped her lips as it rubbed a few sores the wrong way, but at least it covered her. Tying the belt tightly, she braced one hand against the wall, then slowly stood. The boat's rocking left her struggling to keep her balance as her legs – still obviously weak – trembled. It was then that she remembered the cut on her foot, and she reached down to touch it gingerly.

"Stitches?" The sound of her own voice startled her. She sounded hoarse and exhausted, and so broken. As she ran her fingers over the stitches, her eyes caught sight of a pair of light blue tennis shoes, and white socks that sat on the floor by the bed. Sinking back down onto the bed, she watched them for a moment, then wondered what she was waiting for. They weren't going to bite her. Slowly she reached out and picked up the socks, tugging them over her feet slowly. The shoes she decided against. Though they looked her size, she wasn't sure if her injured foot would be comfortable.

Surely enough time had passed that if Skip or his friend were around, they would have come in by now, probably drunk or high, ready to force themselves on her again. Which meant that they weren't around.

Carefully, she stood again, finding it a little easier to balance this time, then headed for the door slowly. She had no idea if it was going to be locked or not, but it was worth a try, right? Upon reaching it, she turned the handle, and blinked as it opened easily, into a short, dark hallway. There were three other doors, all closed, and a set of metal stairs at the end of the hall. Her confidence and hope began to grow as she started to creep forward. Maybe she'd get lucky and the boat would be tied up to a dock, and she could leave . . .

Almost before realizing it, she had reached the stairs. Her her hands grasped the railing and she began to slowly climb the stairs. The metal was cold even through the socks, but she didn't mind. At the top of the stairs was a wooden hatch, which she slowly pushed open. Pausing on the stairs, she shut her eyes as a breeze filled with the salty smell of the sea struck her in the face. Once it passed, she could feel the warmth of the sun on her cheeks, and she reopened her eyes. A tiny, hopeful smile began to form, as she hesitated for a moment, then slowly climbed out onto the deck.

Once she was fully topside, the brunette paused at the sight before her. Nothing but the ocean. She took a few steps forward and reached the railing of the boat, almost stumbling as it rocked with a wave. Her wonder prevented her from feeling the presence behind her, but as the hatch she had climbed through fell shut, she jumped, and turned.

"So good to see you've awoken, Ms. Montenegro. Do be careful where you are. You wouldn't want to fall over; there is no land within swimming distance for one in your condition." As the wind carried his voice towards her, her blood froze, and she met his eyes almost fearfully. It was the same voice that had told Skip to administer the drug to her, when she'd been in the van. As she met his gaze, her hope died away. His eyes were empty, lifeless, belying the smile that was painted on his face.

Angela felt more terrified now, than she had in the warehouse.


	4. Chapter 4 Swaying

_A/N This story takes place during the summer between seasons 3 & 4. For the record, I do NOT in any way condone kidnapping, rape, murder, recreational drug use, or anything like that. If any of these subjects – or strong language - offends you, please DO NOT READ. This fic is NOT work safe, nor is it recommended for those with a weak stomach. Reader's discretion is advised!_

_Chapter 4….this story is so not going the way I originally thought it would! Please R & R! Thanks ___

_Disclaimer:__I claim no ownership of these characters, and no affiliation whatsoever with Hart Hanson, "Bones", Fox, its affiliates, subsidiaries, etc. Please don't sue me!_

PHOTOGRAPHIC EVIDENCE

CHAPTER 4

Swaying

His eyes studied her as if she were a specimen. An insect, under Jack's microscope. A pile of bones on a table on the platform. One part of her felt like an animal, ready to scratch out his eyes if it meant her freedom. The other, more sensible part of her knew that to do anything like that would mean death. Or worse. Though she wasn't sure what could be worse than what she'd already endured.

"Who . . . who are you?" Angela swallowed hard as she asked the question, hoping desperately that it wouldn't mean another punishment, or a needle.

"Ms. Montenegro . . . may I call you Angela?" He was already turning away, and didn't wait for a response. "Angela, I am a collector, and a scientist, of sorts. I collect the rare and exotic. Then I test certain products of mine out on such things." One gloved hand gestured to a chair, and Angela hesitated, then slowly walked past him and sat. Tightening her arms around herself, she looked up at him again, more slowly this time, as he sat across from her. "In case you haven't realized, you are now a part of my collection. My apologies for how you were treated by my employees, but that was to prepare you for what is coming next," as he finished speaking, he picked up a bottle of wine and poured a glass for himself, then settled back in his chair and returned his gaze to her without offering any to her.

She blinked several times as his words slowly sank in. Collection? Products? What was he talking about? "I-I don't understand."

"The person you were before, the home you had, is no longer. From now on, you are my property," his voice was completely lacking in emotion, and it sent a shiver through the brunette's body. "As a matter of fact, your name isn't Angela anymore. From now on, I will refer to you only as my pet."

"But . . . I'm not . . . " she started to speak, confusion mixing with fear and a touch of anger. He didn't own her! He had no right to. As her mind began to process what he was saying, she missed his next action. The man who's name she still didn't know set down his glass, then picked up a small leather folio. Unzipping it, he withdrew a needle and held it up to the sun for a moment, then lowered it again and met her confused dark eyes.

"No arguments now, pet. It's time to get to work." His other hand whipped out and caught her by the right wrist, dragging her out of the chair and across the small bit of deck to him. She cried out as the pain in her wrist flared up, and again when she hit the deck. Naturally, she attempted to struggle, but he was too strong for her. Still holding her wrist, the other hand – the one with the needle – shoved up the sleeve of the robe she wore. Without a word, he then pressed the needle to a vein in the crook of her elbow, and pressed the syringe. "Now . . . you may begin to feel as if you're on fire, and possibly even see or hear certain things. I want you to tell me everything you experience, pet." Sliding the needle back out, he calmly placed it back into the folio, then tugged her almost onto his lap, his face only inches from hers. "_Everything_."

Her breath came in pants as she squeezed her eyes tight, fighting back tears. When they reopened and focused, he didn't look human. Under her gaze, his features seemed to move, to slide around his face as his eyes seemed to shift into a dark red and glow. While Angela knew it had to be the drug, she couldn't help her reaction.

She began to scream.


	5. Chapter 5 Falling

_A/N This story takes place during the summer between seasons 3 & 4. For the record, I do NOT in any way condone kidnapping, rape, murder, recreational drug use, or anything like that. If any of these subjects – or strong language - offends you, please DO NOT READ. This fic is NOT work safe, nor is it recommended for those with a weak stomach. Reader's discretion is advised!_

_Chapter 5 is here! I hope the writing isn't too disjointed-it's still from Ange's POV, of course. Until the end ;-) And yes, there will be more! Please leave reviews!_

_Disclaimer:__I claim no ownership of these characters, and no affiliation whatsoever with Hart Hanson, "Bones", Fox, its affiliates, subsidiaries, etc. Please don't sue me!_

PHOTOGRAPHIC EVIDENCE

CHAPTER 5

Falling

Time was a blur for Angela. A mad, bright, painful blur that made no sense at all.

It hurt to have her eyes open. It hurt to have them shut. Sometimes, they hurt so much that she tried to rake them out with her own hands, leaving long, jagged scratches on her face until her hands were bound once again. Whether she was awake or asleep, she saw terrible things. At first she saw her family, her friends, her Hodgie. Then they would turn into horrible monsters straight out of a Spielberg film, with glowing red eyes, long teeth, and hideous, maggot-covered faces. When she didn't see them, she saw _him_, her captor, the man who kept her a prisoner, who kept coming at her with needles, which would then make her eyes hurt even more, and turn him into a demon all over again. Sometimes, her muscles would contract painfully, to the point where in her delirious state she was sure that her body was falling apart, and her throat would turn raw from her screams.

At times, she would babble unintelligibly. Other times, he would talk to her, force her to answer questions, talk about past cases, her friends, anything. She never knew what he would ask, and she never remembered after, because the freaky visions would come and send her into a state of panic all over again. She heard words like "formula" and "ropinirole", but they were meaningless in her ears. The hours stretched into days, even maybe weeks, but she barely noticed the difference between daytime and nighttime. Occasionally, he would let her fall into a restless sleep in the bed, only to pull her out an hour later and inject her again. Angela didn't even notice that they never went anywhere. She had no idea how much food or water he had; she only knew that he would occasionally make her eat, or pour water down her throat. Left on her own, she could barely lift her arms anymore, except when she tried to scratch out her eyes or pull at her hair.

Finally, a new, almost-familiar sound was heard. It woke her from a light sleep she'd only just fallen into. Her eyes – still burning with pain from being in the sun a short time before, slowly dragged open as she tried to register what had woken her. Was this some new form of torture? She heard booted feet on the stairs – was he coming down to do something new? The thought made her begin to tremble, and a tear slid down one cheek slowly.

She heard voices then, though at first they didn't make sense. Had he brought someone new onto the boat, someone with more needles? Were Skip and his friend back? Was he going to let them do . . . things to her again? There were loud crashes coming from the hall, and she shrank back to the far side of the bed, her hands shakily wrapping around her body. She wasn't wearing the robe at the moment, because it no longer felt soft, thanks to her blood covering it.

The door to the room she was in burst open, and she flinched at the sound. Her eyes slid shut as splinters flew across the room, then reopened as she heard a familiar voice.

"Angela? Ange, can you hear me? It's me, it's Booth." There was a flash of a gun before he reholstered it and was suddenly at her side. He reached out to touch her, and Angela shrieked, shrinking back from his hand.

"D-don't touch me! Get away, just go away!" The drug still in her system, his face began to change, until he looked like some sort of otherworldly evil god. Angela shook her head violently, squeezing her eyes shut. "No more, please no more, just don't don't don't."

"She's in shock. And possibly drugged. Let us take care of her, Agent Booth," an unfamiliar voice spoke up from behind him. Booth stood slowly, staring down at the trembling brunette, then stepped to one side.

"Will she be okay?"

"I can't say for certain right now. We'll have to – " the EMT had moved to Angela's side immediately after Booth moved back, and broke off for a moment as the woman seemed to lapse into unconsciousness. "She's fainted. We need to get her back to the mainland, but I'll start an IV now. I tell you this much, she's severely dehydrated. The best I can do right now is make her comfortable and get some fluids in her until we know what was done. The guys are coming down with a stretcher – "

This time it was Booth who cut him off. He stepped back up next to the EMT. "No. I'll carry her." The man found it wiser not to argue with the agent, and nodded, working quickly as he pulled out an IV bag and tube, slipping the thin, sterilized needle into the woman's arm. He knew ahead of time how much this woman meant to the FBI agent and the others back at the Coast Guard headquarters, but he still was slightly surprised by the ferocity of his tone. Booth waited until the EMT nodded that he was done, then shifted a blanket over Angela and lifted her into his arms. He was alarmed by how light she seemed – surely less than the 135 she'd mentioned the year before. "God, what did he do to you?" It broke his heart to see her this way. "It's okay, Ange. I've got you." He whispered it softly against her hair, then turned and began to hurry out of the room and head for the stairs.


	6. Chapter 6 Screaming

_A/N This story takes place during the summer between seasons 3 & 4. For the record, I do NOT in any way condone kidnapping, rape, murder, recreational drug use, or anything like that. If any of these subjects – or strong language - offends you, please DO NOT READ. This fic is NOT work safe, nor is it recommended for those with a weak stomach. Reader's discretion is advised!_

_I'm sure y'all were wondering what everyone else's reactions were….so here you go! Please leave reviews! Special thanks to the awesome ScienceGeek2587 (go read her great fic!) for her help with the medical side of things. _

_Disclaimer:I claim no ownership of these characters, and no affiliation whatsoever with Hart Hanson, "Bones", Fox, its affiliates, subsidiaries, etc. Please don't sue me!_

PHOTOGRAPHIC EVIDENCE

CHAPTER 6

Screaming

Brennan stared at herself in the bathroom mirror. She was in shock. She knew she was because she'd seen the same look on her face on the faces of the families of victims she and Booth had been forced to inform of their loved ones' demise. She had to snap out of it – Hodgins needed her to be able to think. He was in worse shape than she was, though of course no one could fault him for it. Taking a deep breath, she forced herself to think back over the events of the past hour.

When Booth had returned to the Coast Guard's boat – she was still upset at him for insisting she remained on the boat, but everything had worked out okay – carrying Angela, she had wanted to break down in tears at the sight of her best friend. At first glance, she thought Ange was dead, and had to be snapped out of a daze by Booth. "She's alive. She's alive, Bones. We've got her." As he handed his limp burden to the EMTs, Brennan sighed in relief, nearly trembling from the emotional tumult. Without thinking, she moved towards Booth who turned as if he knew she was coming, and the two hugged each other tightly. A few minutes later, two Coast Guard members dragged the nearly unconscious and bleeding captor that Booth had shot onto the boat, handing him off to EMTs as well.

Brennan shifted her head a little to whisper in Booth's ear, "I wish you had killed him."

"I know, Bones. So do I. But he needs to pay for what he did to her." His arms tightened around her for a brief moment, then he let her go, stepping back.

Brennan nodded and stepped back as well, then turned to where the medical professionals were working on her friend. She moved so she could see a little more easily, but stayed out of their way. It was always best to let others do their job without interference. As they shifted the blanket off of her, a small gasp escaped her. Angela was so pale, the bruises and cuts that covered her were unnaturally bright in the sunlight. Her arms were covered in track marks; if Brennan hadn't known Angela, she would have guessed the woman had been a heroin addict for years.

By the time they got to the hospital, Angela was awake and screaming. She flinched anytime someone tried to touch her, even Brennan, and the EMTs were forced to strap her arms down to prevent her from hurting herself, or pulling out her IV. Still screaming, they wheeled her into the hospital, where a team of nurses and doctors took over, shouting out orders as they took her into a trauma unit. Booth kept Brennan from following, and when she turned, she saw Hodgins. She took a deep breath as he looked her in the eyes, and spoke. "They're taking care of her, Hodgins . . . they know what they're doing. You called in the best doctors. I know they'll take care of her." After that, she excused herself to the bathroom.

When she finally walked back out, a nurse directed her into a private family waiting room across from the trauma unit. She paused in the hallway. Angela was still screaming. Swallowing hard, she moved into the waiting room. As she did so, she noticed that Hodgins was sitting in the chair directly across from the door, his eyes staring through her as if he could see what was happening to Angela. Booth was sitting to his left, and stood when he saw her. She also noted that Caroline was in one corner, talking on her cell phone; it sounded as if she was explaining to someone that the kidnapper was in surgery.

Booth walked over and pulled her into his arms for another hug, slightly longer this time. Being in the doorway, Hodgins couldn't help but see them. A part of him turned colder, while another part of him wept inside. He was beyond jealous; for the first time in his life, he hated someone, however briefly. He shut his eyes, ashamed, until he heard them sit beside him again, and Brennan asked Booth, "Where's Dr. Saroyan?"

"In one of the hospital drug labs. She's working with the technicians to figure out what that bastard was pumping into Angela. They said they can't give her anything until they know."

"Why is she screaming?"

Booth shook his head, reaching out to take Brennan's right hand in his left. "I don't know. I thought I heard her saying something about lights, but she's . . . she's not making any sense."

"Lights? It must be photophobia."

"Huh? She's afraid of cameras?"

"No . . . it's a condition where your eyes become extremely sensitive, and they become very painful. Bright lights, especially those at a hospital, can aggravate it. We should tell them." She started to stand, grateful to have something to do to help her friend, but was stopped when Booth tugged her hand.

"Bones, they can't dim the lights while they're working. We'll tell them after, okay?" Reluctantly, she slowly sat down again. After a moment, she looked past Booth to Hodgins. "Has he said anything yet?"

"No. He heard the doctors order a rape kit and . . . he started to cry. The last thing he said was to ask me to call Ange's dad. I did, he's on his way." Booth glanced towards Hodgins as well. He could understand how the guy felt, even though he hadn't been in his exact situation. If anything like this had happened to . . . the women he had loved over the years, he'd be breaking down right about now.

They sat in silence for the next hour. Eventually, Caroline fetched some coffee for all of them, then had to leave herself, being required at the courthouse. Finally, Cam walked into the room looking a bit ragged. She tried to smile as Booth and Brennan stood, but was unsuccessful. She sat next to Brennan with a faint sigh, accepting the coffee Booth passed her with a grateful nod.

"Ropinirole. That's what he was injecting her with.."

"What's roping-roll?" Booth asked in confusion, glancing to Brennan for an explanation. To his surprise, Hodgins spoke up behind him.

"Ropinirole. It's used to treat Parkinson's disease." He didn't look at them, only continued to stare out the door. The screaming had finally stopped, and he wasn't sure if that made things better or worse.

Cam looked over at him, sympathy in her eyes, but he didn't notice. "Exactly." She returned her attention to Brennan and Booth. She took a deep breath and continued. "The side effects include photophobia, muscle contracture, and hallucinations. There are a few others, but they're not sure what she's experienced yet. They ordered more, but it'll take a couple of hours. Since we don't know the last time she was injected, there's no way to tell when she'll start going through withdrawal. They're hoping the drug gets here before she does."

Brennan nodded, but Booth looked confused. "Wait. Why do they want to give her _more_ of what's hurting her?"

Brennan answered before Cam, "They need to wean her off it slowly. She can't go frozen turkey. Doing that could kill her."

"Cold turkey, Bones." Booth corrected her absently, sitting back in his chair as he folded his arms across his chest. "I still don't like it."

Cam reached past Brennan and laid a hand on his arm. "I'm sorry, Seeley. It's necessary. It'll be better for her, in the long run."

Everyone's eyes turned towards the doorway as one of the nurses who had gone into the room with Angela appeared. Her eyes fell on Hodgins, and she walked over. "You're her fiancé, right? We're about to do an examination. The doctor is asking that you come in to keep her calm."

Hodgins leapt to his feet, more than willing to take the chance to see Angela. "Let's go."

Stepping into Ange's room behind the nurse, he paused in the doorway for a second. He'd barely had a chance to see the woman of his dreams when she'd been brought in, and now that she lay in front of him, he was overwhelmed with both joy at seeing her alive, and despair at the evidence of what she'd been through. There was blood on her face and in her hair. And though they had covered the main part of her body with a gown, he could see the track marks on her arms from the needles the bastard had forced into her, along with other scratches. Her foot shifted, and he saw that the bottom of it was stitched, badly. Her face was strained with tears and sweat, and her hair clung to her skin.

"Angie . . . " His voice was a broken whisper, as the doctor motioned him over to the foot of the bed. At the sound, her eyes, which had been shut tightly, opened slowly. They were glassy, almost empty, but he watched as they filled with an emotion he had never seen in her when she looked in his direction. Fear. He wanted desperately to go to her side, but instead he moved towards the doctor, who took him aside.

"Jack Hodgins, right?" When he nodded, the woman continued, "We're about to examine her to see if she's been raped. I asked that you come in here to help comfort her while we do. Are you going to be able to handle that, or should we get someone else?"

Hodgins blinked, tearing his eyes from Angela to stare at the doctor. She was petite, with shoulder-length blond hair. Her white coat read Dr. Alex Sommerset, but he barely even noticed. "Raped?" When she nodded, he let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. He hadn't wanted to think about what Ange had gone through during the almost-month she'd been missing. Now, faced with the possibility of rape, he didn't want to consider it. His mouth opened to tell them that they should get someone else, Booth, or even Sweets. Instead, he found himself nodding. "Yeah . . . I can stay. She needs me."

The doctor gave a nod, along with a small, sad smile meant to convey sympathy. "Go stand by her head, and we'll get started."

Hodgins nodded again and did as she said. Angela's eyes had closed again, but reopened when he moved between her face and the light above her. Slowly she focused on him as the doctor spoke, "Angela, you're going to feel some pressure now. It'll only take a few seconds, okay?"

"Wh – what?" She blinked, and then her eyes widened as she felt something suddenly thrust inside her, violating her all over again. At that moment, Hodgins' face suddenly became perfectly clear in her gaze, and she started to scream. "NO! No no no don't please don't, please stop!"

"Ange, it's me, it's okay!" He reached out to touch her cheek, and she shifted away from him violently, at the same time trying to twist away from the _thing _inside her.

"She's going to hurt herself! Marsha, get her other wrist." The doctor leapt to her feet and pushed Hodgins out of the way, surprisingly strong for a woman so tiny. She caught Ange's flailing right hand and pulled it down to the side of the bed. She strapped it down, then looked across to see if the nurse had done the same. She then stepped back and moved back towards the foot. "I'll try and make this as fast as possible. I'm sorry, Angela, but we have to do this."

The brunette wasn't even listening. She was still screaming, struggling to free herself as she stared wild-eyed at Jack.

His bright blue eyes were filled with tears as he watched her, wishing there was something he could do. He felt useless, and ashamed at having made her feel worse. The doctor looked over at him sadly. "I'm so very sorry . . . maybe it would be better if you left instead."

Slowly, he backed out of the room and into the hall, her screaming still in his ears.


	7. Chapter 7 Crashing

_A/N This story takes place during the summer between seasons 3 & 4. For the record, I do NOT in any way condone kidnapping, rape, murder, recreational drug use, or anything like that. If any of these subjects – or strong language - offends you, please DO NOT READ. This fic is NOT work safe, nor is it recommended for those with a weak stomach. Reader's discretion is advised!_

_Here's chapter 7...hope y'all like it! And don't hate me too much for messing with your heartstrings, okay? Thank you to doctorsuez and ScienceGeek2587 for all their help! :-)_

_Disclaimer:I claim no ownership of these characters, and no affiliation whatsoever with Hart Hanson, "Bones", Fox, its affiliates, subsidiaries, etc. Please don't sue me!_

PHOTOGRAPHIC EVIDENCE

CHAPTER 7

Crashing

Sweets paced up and down the waiting room floor, mentally counting his steps as he walked. Ten to the bad coffee service. Thirteen to the window. He knew that there should be something wrong with that, the numbers should match, but he didn't care to try and figure out what it was. The counting was a mental relaxation tool he often championed in his sessions with stressed agents, but now he could understand why they found it useless. It didn't help anything. Angela was still lying in the other room, beaten and broken.

He didn't know how many times he walked back and forth. He didn't notice anything until he was suddenly interrupted somewhere between six and seven on his way back to the coffee service by a pair of black heels. Blinking, he looked up and found himself face to face with Cam. "Dr. Saroyan. I'm, uh, sorry, I didn't see you there."

Before he had a chance to move around her, Cam lifted her hands and placed them on his shoulders. "Sweets, no offense, but if you keep pacing, I'm going to have to ask Booth to shoot you." Her words were softened by an understanding smile.

He took a deep breath, then nodded, though it pained him to do so. "I'm sorry. It's just . . . I wish there was something I could do. I know that I should be clinical and be trying to help everyone come to terms with how they're feeling; I just can't seem to figure that out for myself." His eyes shifted over to the side, where he saw that Dr. Brennan had slipped into a doze, or at least had her eyes closed, her head resting on Agent Booth's shoulder. The agent himself had one arm wrapped around her, his own head leaning back against the wall as he stared up at the ceiling. A couple chairs away, Dr. Hodgins was slumped into a chair, his hands on his face, with his eyes still staring fixedly at the doorway. "How can I help them if I can't help myself?"

Cam could see the longing in his eyes when he looked at her colleagues, and understood what was there. While she wasn't entirely sure of the reasons for it, she knew that Sweets wanted a place to belong. A place where he would be accepted as he was. He'd worked long and hard over the past several months to become a part of the Jeffersonian team, and he nearly was. Cam herself was still too raw from Zack's betrayal only a little more than a month ago to fully accept him herself, but she still understood. "Don't be a doctor right now. Don't try to analyze feelings – theirs, or yours. Just be a friend. That will do the most good right now."

Sweets' eyes were still on Dr. Hodgins. He thought he knew something of what the man felt, and he hadn't even been the one to go in the room. Angela was so important to them all. She was like the spark. No, more than that. Angela Montenegro was their firecracker. And they all felt that lack of fire right now. "Yeah . . . I guess you're right." Together, the two of them walked back to the group and sat down next to the forensic anthropologist. Booth's eyes shifted to meet Sweets, and he nodded slightly. Sweets relaxed, feeling somehow better at the Agent's reassurance. They were going to be okay. Angela had been rescued. "Everything will be okay, now," he whispered. Cam heard him and lightly patted his knee in agreement.

Just as he started to sit back, there was a sudden flurry of activity in the hall outside the waiting room. Seconds later, they could all hear a computerized voice coming from a loudspeaker, "Code Blue, room T628. Code Blue, room T628. Authorized personnel, please respond." The door to Angela's room slammed open, and a nurse rushed out, hurrying down the hall while calling for a crash cart.

"Code blue, that's-" Booth started, looking at Brennan and Cam.

"She's crashing," Cam whispered in horror, one hand rising to her mouth.

"No," the word was spoken definitively by Hodgins, who then jumped up and dashed across the hall into Angela's room.

Inside, he saw the doctor performing CPR, and heard a high-pitched tone coming steadily from the ECG, and his eyes grew terrified as he stared down at his fiancé. Ignoring the doctor's orders for him to leave the room, he hurried to the bedside and took Angela's hand in his, leaning in to her ear.

"Angie, god . . . Angie, you can't leave me. You have to stay with me, okay? Just stay. You can't go. I need you too much, baby." His other hand brushed the hair away from her forehead as the nurse from before, along with others, entered the room with the crash cart. He didn't pay any attention to their attempts to make him leave the room. Instead he simply moved closer to the wall, staying by her head and continuing to hold her hand and whisper to her. As the doctors worked, all sound faded for Hodgins. All he could hear was that damn tone that refused to change. He squeezed her hand tightly in both of his as he simply babbled in Angela's ear.

"I love you so much, Angela. I need you to stay. If you leave me, there's nothing more for me. Working at the lab, being around our friends . . . none of it means anything without you. Please just live, Angie. You can't leave us, any of us. I love you . . ." Jack wasn't sure how many times they tried to revive her, but at last he heard the most wonderful sound in the world. A short, single beep. It was followed by a second, and then a third. It continued, and Hodgins leaned in, pressing his forehead against hers as he struggled to catch his breath. She was alive.

Slowly, he began to hear what the doctors were saying. Dr. Sommerset was explaining to the others that withdrawal from the drug had kicked in, causing autonomin instability. One of them told her that the ropinirole had arrived and she asked that some be brought in immediately to be added to Angela's IV. Jack noticed none of this. As he lifted his head to gaze down at Angela, her eyes fluttered several times, then slowly blinked their way open. A whimper escaped her lips as she felt the pain all over her body. When her gaze shifted meeting his, he could see that she recognized him, but instead of smiling, she jerked her hand from his grip suddenly, and began to tremble.

Swallowing hard, he forced himself to smile at her. "Angie? It's me. Jack. Can you understand me?"

She shrank back from him, and the whimper began to grow louder. A moment later, Dr. Sommerset was at Hodgins' side. "Dr. Hodgins, I'm sorry, but I think it's best that you go back across the hall. I don't want her to get too agitated." He felt like his heart was breaking, but he nodded, slowly tearing his gaze away, and heading for the door.

Back across the waiting room, Cam and Brennan met him in the doorway, and he stared at them for a moment, then began to cry unabashedly. Wordlessly, both women stepped forward and hugged him tightly, catching him as he began to fall. Booth moved in, guiding all three of them back to a chair, while Sweets looked on miserably. "Dr. Hodgins . . . is she?"

"She – she's alive." He squeezed his eyes shut. "She's alive, but . . . she's not her."


	8. Chapter 8 Waiting

_A/N This story takes place during the summer between seasons 3 & 4. For the record, I do NOT in any way condone kidnapping, rape, murder, recreational drug use, or anything like that. If any of these subjects – or strong language - offends you, please DO NOT READ. This fic is NOT work safe, nor is it recommended for those with a weak stomach. Reader's discretion is advised!_

_Annnnd here's chapter 8! I'm pretty much posting these the same day I write them. Not sure why it's coming so quickly, but that's better for y'all, right? Please R & R! _

_Disclaimer:I claim no ownership of these characters, and no affiliation whatsoever with Hart Hanson, "Bones", Fox, its affiliates, subsidiaries, etc. Please don't sue me!_

PHOTOGRAPHIC EVIDENCE

CHAPTER 8

Waiting

Another hour went by, which was pure hell for Booth. The agent was a man of action, not a man of . . . waiting. He despised the fact that someone had hurt one of _his_ squints. Zack's betrayal had been bad enough, but Angela getting hurt was torture for him. He was supposed to protect them, whether they liked it or not. But his guard had been down and someone had slipped by, and Ange had been caught in the crossfire.

_Dear Lord, please take care of her. Please help us all through this._ His eyes shifted to Hodgins, who now had his head in his hands, covering his eyes. _Especially Jack. He needs you most of all, right now._ A movement in the doorway caught the corner of his eye, and he tensed while looking over, noticing it was the doctor. She signaled him and he stood, touching Brennan lightly on the shoulder so she would come too. His gaze caught Cam's and he tilted his head towards Hodgins; she nodded her understanding.

"We're going to go for some good coffee, Hodgins. We'll be back in a few minutes." He told the man, pausing a moment to rest a hand on his shoulder, then headed to the door with Brennan. The two of them stepped out into the hallway with the doctor, who led them down the hall a short ways.

"I'm Dr. Sommerset. I understand that you're the agent in charge of Ms. Montenegro's case?" Deep blue eyes met Booth's dark gaze, and he nodded.

"Dr. Brennan here is my partner. We're her friends, too."

The doctor nodded and continued, "I thought you'd like an update on what we've been able to piece together about what happened to her." Brennan swallowed hard, her hand seeking out Booth's, but she nodded, as did he. "From what we can tell, she was raped. Most likely by more than one person. Some of the tearing has healed, showing that it's been at least a week since the most recent incident occurred. Her wrists have abrasions on them from rope burns. It seems that she struggled when they tied her up. It would've been extremely painful." The doctor's eyes darkened at her own personal anger for a moment, before she shook her head and continued. "There was a cut on her foot, badly stitched. I'm sorry to say that we had to reopen it to clean out an infection, and restitch it. Her back is covered in welts, from a belt, I believe. There are similar welts on her torso and arms. And, as I'm sure you both saw, there are multiple punctures on her arms from needles; some of them are a week or more older than others. We can't be certain what she was injected with besides the ropinirole. My guess is a mixture of various other drugs before that. If it had been at the same time, the mixture would have killed her. The scratches on her face are from her own hands."

"Is she going to be okay?" Booth asked the question for both of them.

"Physically it'll take some time, but yes. She may have some scars on her arms for a while, and the cut on her foot, but eventually most of that will fade. Unfortunately, I have no way of telling how she'll be mentally or emotionally. We have a very talented group of trauma psychologists here; I strongly recommend that she talk to one of them."

"We have our own shrink. Dr. Sweets – " Booth paused as Brennan shook her head.

"Booth, he's not trained to deal with someone who's gone through what Angela did. He's a criminal psychologist who works for the FBI. He's not a trauma counselor."

Booth thought about that for a moment, then nodded to the doctor. "Okay. We'll talk to her about it, then."

"There's another thing. I recommend that for the time being, no men be left alone with her. After what she's been through, she doesn't even want to be touched. She becomes extremely agitated when any men come close to her. A lot of rape victims react like that way, but with the hallucinogens added in, her reactions are elevated."

"How long do you have to keep her on the ropinirole?" Brennan asked the doctor.

"Hopefully, only forty eight hours at most. Over the next several hours, we'll begin to steadily lower the dosage to try and wean her off. The problem is that her body is just too used to it. If we take her off too quickly, she could flat-line again."

"Can her fiancé see her?" Booth asked, thinking of Jack.

"He can see her, but I wouldn't be surprised she reacts negatively, or even violently, to his presence. We had to strap her down earlier when he was in there the first time to keep her from hurting herself." Booth and Brennan shared a glance. Jack hadn't mentioned that. "For now, she's asleep. We can't give her a sedative or painkiller while she's on the ropinirole, so it's best that she rests as much as she can. At the moment, she's simply worn herself out with all that's happened today; I don't see her waking any time soon. If you need her to be photographed for your case, I suggest you do it now, and quickly."

"Thanks, doc," Booth was already pulling out his cell phone to get a photographer in, but didn't dial the number. He had a feeling Cam could probably do it.

"Thank you, Dr. Sommerset. We'll talk to her fiancé, and try to explain things to him. Can we go in to see her soon?" Brennan spoke up next to the agent.

"You can, but don't wake her. She really needs to sleep right now." They both nodded. "I have a few other patients I need to take care of, but I'll be back up here to check on her in an hour. The nurse, Marsha, is with her right now. She's going to be the daytime nurse assigned to her, since Angela has seen her the most so far. I'm making recommendations on her chart that she not be left alone for the next several hours. I get the feeling that she's been alone all too much, recently."

The partners nodded again, and the doctor headed on down the hallway. "Let's grab that coffee, Bones, then hit the gift shop. I need to pick up a camera. Plus, I know you probably want to get her something."

Brennan blinked a few times, then nodded in understanding. "Gifts. Right. Angela likes flowers, and colors . . ."

Booth gave her a small smile, then headed towards the elevator, still holding her hand. Inwardly, he hoped she didn't try to reclaim it any time soon. She wasn't the only one who needed support.


	9. Chapter 9 Trying

_A/N: This story takes place during the summer between seasons 3 & 4. For the record, I do NOT in any way condone kidnapping, rape, murder, recreational drug use, or anything like that. If any of these subjects – or strong language - offends you, please DO NOT READ. This fic is NOT work safe, nor is it recommended for those with a weak stomach. Reader's discretion is advised!_

_Chap 9! Pretty much drama free :-) Please R & R! _

_Disclaimer: I claim no ownership of these characters, and no affiliation whatsoever with Hart Hanson, "Bones", Fox, its affiliates, subsidiaries, etc. Please don't sue me!_

PHOTOGRAPHIC EVIDENCE

CHAPTER 9

Trying

It didn't take forty eight hours to wean Angela off the drug. It took seventy two.

For three days, Angela swung back and forth between hallucinations caused by the drug, and a feeling of not fully being _there_ whenever the withdrawal hit. Her temperature was erratic, going up and down depending on however much of the drug was in her at the time, causing her to shake from chills while sweating at the same time. They kept the lights dim and the blinds closed; every time they had to shine a light in her pupils, she would flinch from the pain. Sometimes she was almost lucid, talking to Brennan as if it were a normal day, but about things that had happened months ago. Other times she would shrink away from even her best friend in terror, curling up into a ball and demanding that she leave.

When Dr. Sommerset finally took her off the ropinirole, Angela let out a slow, shaky breath of relief. She didn't understand most of what had been going on, and she had already forced herself to try and forget what happened to her in the warehouse and on the boat. "Can . . . can I have something for the pain, please?" Angela whispered the words quietly. Her throat was still raw from screaming off and on, and it hurt to talk too loudly.

"Soon. I want to give your body a chance to recover first. It's only just purged the drug, and it needs time to recuperate. I want to be sure that you're not showing any symptoms, so we'll probably wait about another seven hours. We'll give you something as soon as you're ready." She smiled kindly to the brunette, pity evident in her eyes. "In the meantime, just try and rest. Do you want me to send anyone in?"

Angela hesitated, her eyes flickering to the balloons, flowers, cards, and stuffed animals on the table next to her bed. She couldn't even remember when they had been placed there. For a moment, she thought about asking for Jack, but then swallowed hard. It hurt to think about him. "Could you maybe ask my friend, Temperance Brennan? I'd like to see her, I think."

Dr. Sommerset smiled and nodded. "Of course. And Marsha should be in soon, as well, to check on you. If you need anything at all, don't hesitate to press the call button." With that, she headed out of the room.

Marsha bustled in almost immediately, before Angela even had the chance to begin panicking. Since she had started to become more aware of her surroundings, she hated being alone, and the motherly nurse knew that. On seeing the nurse, Ange relaxed a little, settling back onto a pillow.

"Well now, Angie, looks like you're doing better today!" The nurse was short and stocky, with short, curly hair, and was in her fifties at least. She had a way about her that eased Angela and kept her from freaking out anytime someone walked in or out. She still sometimes thought that _he_ might be the next one to walk in.

"Yeah, um . . . my friend is about to come in, I think." Her voice was still quiet, and her eyes watched the nurse carefully, the same way she had watched the doctor.

"Well, let's just sit you up here so that you'll be able to say a proper how do ya do, okay?" She moved over to the bed and pressed a button on the side so that it would slowly rise a bit, putting Angela in more of a sitting position. She tensed slightly when the nurse came near, but then relaxed when all she did was raise the bed. A moment later, the door opened again and Brennan stepped through. "I'll just leave you two ladies to your talk. Be sure and get some rest soon, Angie my dear." Marsha waved lightly and moved around Brennan, stepping out of the room.

Angela's gaze shifted to meet Brennan's eyes, and they started to fill with tears. "I . . . I'm so glad to see you." Brennan walked over quickly and started to reach out, then stopped, remembering what she'd been told about Angela not wanting to be touched. Awkwardly, she lay her hand on the railing of the bed while sitting in a chair.

"Ange, the feeling is more than mutual. I was so scared . . . " she trailed off, then forced a smile. "But you're here now. You're back, so things will be alright again." Again Brennan trailed off. She wasn't sure exactly what she should say to make her best friend feel better. Usually it was Angela who told her what she should say or do.

Angela blinked back the tears in her eyes as she gazed at her friend. "I'm so sorry . . . I – I missed you so much. I thought I'd never see you again." Since Brennan's hand hadn't moved from the railing, Angela hesitated, then slowly reached out and lay her own hand on her friend's. Bren let out a shaky breath, then turned her hand over so the two women's palms met.

"Do you . . . do you want to talk about it? About what happened?" Bren's other hand moved to sandwich Angela's.

"I – no. No, I can't . . . It's all such a blur, and . . . I don't want to think about it. Or talk about it." Angela shook her head as another tear slid down her cheek. "I'm sorry, I just can't."

"That's fine, Angela. It's okay." Brennan squeezed Angela's hand gently, still smiling at her. "Do you want the others to come in? They'd really like to see you."

So many questions . . . Angela's head began to hurt as much as the rest of her did. She shut her eyes for a moment, thinking about her friends, and Jack. "Maybe . . . but not yet. I don't think I – I'm not ready to see them yet. Just you for now, please?" Her eyes reopened and met Brennan's again, pleading with her not to let the others see her like that. She couldn't take the questions just yet, or the looks in their eyes.

Brennan nodded, squeezing her hand again. "Okay. Just you and me for now, Ange." She noted that Angela was beginning to look a little tired, and decided to comment on it. "You should probably rest. Since they can't give you any pain medication yet, you're body needs to try and heal itself, and it won't do that very well when you're awake."

"Will you stay with me?" When Brennan nodded, Angela relaxed again, then shut her eyes.

**************

Two hours later, Booth stuck his head in slowly. He was met with the sight of his partner sitting beside Angela's bed, watching TV with the volume so low he could barely hear it. Angela herself seemed to be asleep. He slipped in, shutting the door behind him quietly.

"Hey," he whispered as he moved over and sat beside Brennan. "How is she?"

"Tired, and in a lot of pain, I think," she whispered back, glancing at her best friend. Angela looked so small and pale in the bed, but her hand still held tightly to Brennan's.

Booth nodded. "I just finished escorting her captor back to Hoover. He's still not talking. Guy's creepy, it's like there's nothing in his eyes at all," he paused, looking to Angela again. "I was hoping she might be up to giving a statement."

"I don't think so, Booth. She already told me she couldn't talk about it," they were both still whispering, but when Brennan moved to turn to her partner, her hand shifted, and Angela started to awaken. A quiet whimper escaped her lips, and her eyes opened slowly. She blinked a few times, then looked over to see the two of them.

"Brennan, you stayed . . . " she'd been afraid that she wouldn't, and was grateful. When she focused on Booth, however, her body tensed as the memory of his face changing when he'd found her on the boat flashed into her mind. She swallowed hard, letting go of her friend's hand and shifting a little on the bed. "Booth? Hi, um . . . what are you doing in here?"

Even Booth could tell that she wasn't up to it, but he had to ask anyway. "Angela, I'm sorry, but I have to ask . . . are you ready to give a statement? We need to get one on record, soon."

Angela's eyes widened as his words sank in, and she shook her head weakly. "N – no. I don't have anything to say . . . " She curled up a little, turning her face away from both of them and shutting her eyes. "P – please, just leave. Go away."

"When you're ready, Angela . . . let me know, okay?" Booth shared a sad look with Brennan, then turned and walked out of the room again.


	10. Chapter 10 Talking

_A/N: This story takes place during the summer between seasons 3 & 4. For the record, I do NOT in any way condone kidnapping, rape, murder, recreational drug use, or anything like that. If any of these subjects – or strong language - offends you, please DO NOT READ. This fic is NOT work safe, nor is it recommended for those with a weak stomach. Reader's discretion is advised!_

_Here be chapter 10. This is pretty graphic, so I want to reiterate that reader's discretion is advised. Ange gives her statement to Booth. Please R & R!_

_Disclaimer: I claim no ownership of these characters, and no affiliation whatsoever with Hart Hanson, "Bones", Fox, its affiliates, subsidiaries, etc. Please don't sue me!_

PHOTOGRAPHIC EVIDENCE

CHAPTER 10

TALKING

Two days after Angela stopped being made to take the ropinirole, she agreed to talk to Booth, with Brennan and Marsha being present.

While she waited for him to come in, Angela stared out the window across from her bed. She had finally let them open the blinds; the light didn't hurt her eyes anymore. Marsha sat near the foot of her bed, talking about her children, but Ange wasn't listening. Instead, her hands were plucking at the sheet absently. She was grateful that she was no longer on the IV, but she still kept the sheet pulled up pretty high, not wanting to see the scratches and welts that still showed on her flesh.

When the door opened, her dark chocolate gaze darted to the door, and she watched her best friend, and Booth, walk in. Her breath caught slightly and she swallowed hard, her eyes not moving from him. He offered a slight smile, though it faded quickly. After an awkward moment, Brennan stepped around him and moved to Angela's side, taking her hand again.

"Ange, are you sure you're ready to talk about it?"

"I – I'm not sure. But . . . the shrink says I should. That it's, um, necessary."

"Unfortunately, it's necessary for Booth's investigation. He needs your statement so that he can properly charge your kidnappers," Brennan spoke softly, showing a rare bout of compassion.

"I know . . . " Ange swallowed again, then nodded. "Okay. I can . . . talk about it. I can try, anyway. Just, please, don't leave me, okay?" Her voice started to break and a tear slipped down one cheek. "I just want to get it over with."

Brennan nodded, and Booth moved over, sliding into a chair next to his partner. "Hey, Angela. I just need to tell me what you remember. Start at the beginning. What's the last thing you remember before all this happened?"

Ange took a deep breath and closed her eyes for a moment, thinking back. The hand that held Brennan's tightened for a moment, then relaxed. "It was lunchtime. I left the Jeffersonian to go visit Zack, at McKinley. I was bringing him some comics to read. He really loves Spiderman, you know?" Her eyes reopened and she looked at Brennan and Booth. "After I left, I headed back to the lab. While I was going through a light, I had to stop short; someone cut me off. I remember the street was pretty deserted, there weren't any other cars. I waited for the person to move, but . . . they got out of the car and came back to mine instead. I rolled down my window. I – I thought they were having car trouble, or something, but . . . " she trailed off, looking away again. "One of them, Skip – I heard his name later – Skip pulled out a gun and held it on me. They, um, told me to get out of the car. I did, and . . . I think they used chloroform, or something? I'm not sure."

Brennan nodded, interrupting, "We found evidence in the warehouse. They had chloroform, among other drugs they . . . used."

Ange swallowed hard. "Oh."

Booth leaned forward a little, speaking reassuringly, "Angela, it's okay. You're safe now. Go on. Tell me what you remember next."

She met his eyes for a moment, then glanced away. "Things get kind of jumbled after that. I remember . . . they, um, did things to me. They raped me . . . and they beat me . . . and they stuck needles in my arm, and made me do other drugs . . ." she trailed off, staring down at her arms and at the scars there. "I don't remember the details. I don't want to."

"Ange, I'm sorry I have to ask this. I really need you to remember as much as you can. Any details you remember," Booth hesitated, really hating this part. "Did they both rape you?"

Another tear slid down her cheek, and she nodded. "Yes. They forced me to . . . use my mouth on them. And they forced themselves into me; I don't know how many . . ." Again, Angela had to stop. Her hand squeezed Brennan's, begging through her touch to be comforted. She took one slow, shuddering breath. "It hurt _so_ much. Sometimes I – I wanted the drugs. They would make me not feel things, sometimes. I just wanted to be numb." The tears began to fall a little more freely, "They called me names. Whore, slut . . . cunt . . .They – they said that my fiancé would never want me after they were done. They said they were going to kill me, that I'd never g-get free."

"It's okay, Ange. You're here. You're free." Brennan was also crying as she gazed at her friend. She wasn't used to being the one who had to comfort. Ange had usually done that for her. But at the moment, she went with, as Booth would call it, her gut. She leaned over and slid her arms around her best friend, hugging her tightly. Angela went rigid for a moment, then slowly slid her arms around Brennan as well. She closed her eyes again, resting her head in the crook of Brennan's neck. After several minutes, Booth reluctantly cleared his throat, and the two women separated.

Ange took the tissue he offered, and wiped her eyes slowly. "I'm not sure how long I was there. Then one day, they moved me. They made me walk to a van, and I cut my foot. There was someone else there. I could hear his voice. It was . . . cold. Emotionless. He told them to inject me with something. I don't know what it was, but it knocked me out. The next time I woke up, I . . . was on a boat. Where you found me, I guess. Someone had stitched my foot, and I was cleaner. There was a robe on a bed for me, and socks and shoes . . . I was hurting a lot, but I went up to the, um, deck?" When Booth nodded, she continued. "_He_ was up there. The man with the cold voice. I don't know who he is, but . . . he said I was going to be his pet. And he . . . he started giving me drugs again. The ropinirole, I guess. After that, I – there aren't any clear memories. None except after I was here. Everything's a little blurry . . . I'm sorry. I wish I could tell you more."

Booth swallowed hard, sitting forward again. "Ange, it's okay. You did great."

"How . . . how did you find me?"

"When he took you from the warehouse, he, well, shot Skip and Mitch. That was the other guy. He left them for dead. We arrived only a few hours later, having tracked some evidence," Booth paused, remembering how upset they'd all been when they realized they'd shown up within hours of finding Angela. "Skip died, and Mitch ended up in a coma. When he woke up he spilled it all, hoping for a deal. He's the one that told us where you were, and we got the coast guard involved."

Angela slowly nodded, looking at them once again. "Are there . . . any more questions? I'm really tired. I'm sorry."

"Don't be. We'll let you get some sleep. I've got a few phone calls to make, but Bones'll stay here with you, the whole time, okay?"

Again she nodded, her gaze shifting to Brennan, "Please don't leave me."

"I won't, Ange. I'll stay right here," Brennan spoke softly, watching as the brunette's eyes slowly slid shut. She waited until she was sure Angela was asleep, then turned to her partner, speaking in a whisper. "If I hadn't seen the evidence, I'm not sure I'd believe anyone was capable of doing all that to someone like her."

Booth laid a hand on her shoulder. "I know, Bones. I'm going to go log this statement and talk to Caroline, okay?" After she nodded, he stood. "She'll be okay. She's strong, Bones, more than she knows." As he headed out the door, he didn't voice his last thought, _She'll have to be_.


	11. Chapter 11 Comforting

_A/N: This story takes place during the summer between seasons 3 & 4. For the record, I do NOT in any way condone kidnapping, rape, murder, recreational drug use, or anything like that. If any of these subjects – or strong language - offends you, please DO NOT READ. This fic is NOT work safe, nor is it recommended for those with a weak stomach. Reader's discretion is advised!_

_Chapter 11 is finally here! Figured y'all deserve some sweet Hodgela goodness for being such awesome readers! Please R & R!_

_Disclaimer: I claim no ownership of these characters, and no affiliation whatsoever with Hart Hanson, "Bones", Fox, its affiliates, subsidiaries, etc. Please don't sue me!_

PHOTOGRAPHIC EVIDENCE

CHAPTER 11

COMFORTING

The next time Jack walked into her room, Ange was sitting up in bed and waiting for him. After talking to the hospital's psychiatrist, she was starting to understand why she felt so mixed up about the man she loved, and she really wanted it to stop. Brennan was sitting beside the bed, and sent a faint smile to Hodgins, before looking to Angela. "Will you be okay?"

The brunette took a slow, shuddering breath, then nodded. "Yeah, sweetie. Thanks for staying with me, but I can tell you're exhausted. Please, just go home, get some sleep." Her best friend had barely left her side for the past three days since she'd given her statement to Booth, except to go get food and shower in the bathroom in Angela's room.

Brennan nodded and stood, then leaned over and kissed Angela's forehead lightly. "I'll see you later, okay?" She squeezed her hand one last time, then stepped away. As she passed Hodgins, she reached out and lightly patted his arm before leaving the room. Hodgins himself barely even noticed. His eyes were only for Angela.

"You look . . . better." He spoke awkwardly, staying where he was. His heart couldn't take it if he went closer and she cringed away again.

"They said I'm healing. My body is, anyway." Angela's eyes took in every detail about him, free from the drugs as she was. He had lost weight, and she felt guilty for being the reason. She could also tell he hadn't slept in days, maybe longer. "The rest of me, I'm not too sure about." Her gaze flickered to the chair Brennan had vacated, then back to him. "You . . . can sit, if you want." The words were barely out of her mouth before he had moved and slid into the seat. She blinked in surprise, but didn't comment. Her hands fisted for a moment, then relaxed. She was trying desperately not to be afraid. This was Jack, her Hodgie. The sweetest man she knew. He wasn't a threat to her.

"It'll take time. But I know you'll be okay, Ange. You're stronger than you know." He was almost whispering now, his gaze never leaving her.

"I – I don't feel strong." Her voice had dropped to the same level, and her eyes fell away. "They're saying that I can go home tomorrow. I'm healed enough that they can't keep me here any longer." Did she want to go home? Not really. She actually had begun to feel safe in the hospital room, and didn't really want to leave it for any reason. She hadn't even gone outside for a walk, as Dr. Sommerset told her she should. There were too many people out there.

"I can take you there." He knew he shouldn't. The doctor had warned him. Sweets had warned him. The hospital shrink had warned him. Hell, even Brennan had. But he couldn't help it. His left hand reached out of its own volition and the back of it brushed slightly down her cheek. Her breath escaped in a small exhalation as she froze, her eyes darting to his again. For a long moment, the two were still, his hand on her face, her eyes locked on his. Finally, she shifted a little, leaning into his hand just a bit. As it turned to cup her cheek, her eyes filled with tears.

"Angie . . . I was so scared. Even more than that time I was trapped in the car. I thought . . . I didn't think I'd ever see you again."

One tear slipped down her cheek, and his thumb brushed it away as she spoke. "I was terrified. I thought the same thing. All I could think of was you . . . then . . . all I wanted was for you not to see me like that. I didn't want you to – to hate me, after what they did."

"Angie, I could never hate you. Ever." The word was spoken fervently as he leaned in and kissed her lips tenderly. He could feel her tremble beneath his hand, but instead of pulling away like he figured she would, he felt her arms wrap slowly around him in a tight embrace. She broke the kiss first, shifting to rest her head against his chest, tears sliding down her face in silence. Jack maneuvered himself onto the bed and lay beside her, wrapping his own arms around her and gently rocking her. For the first time in days, he began to think they would be okay.


	12. Chapter 12 Homecoming

_A/N: This story takes place during the summer between seasons 3 & 4. For the record, I do NOT in any way condone kidnapping, rape, murder, recreational drug use, or anything like that. If any of these subjects – or strong language - offends you, please DO NOT READ. This fic is NOT work safe, nor is it recommended for those with a weak stomach. Reader's discretion is advised!_

_At last, chapter 12. I'm soooo sorry it took so long to write! I had issues with starting the chapter, and got busy – and sick – in real life. I hope y'all enjoy it! Please R&R! And again, I'm sorry!_

_Disclaimer: I claim no ownership of these characters, and no affiliation whatsoever with Hart Hanson, "Bones", Fox, its affiliates, subsidiaries, etc. Please don't sue me!_

Chapter 12

Homecoming

All her friends showed up the next day to take Angela home. A part of her wanted to scream. The other part just wanted to cry. Fortunately, she didn't listen to either side. Thanks to some pain medication, her head felt very heavy, for which she was actually pretty grateful. It meant that no one expected her to smile, or talk, or even really _be _there. When her nurse, Marsha, wheeled her out of the hospital, Angela blinked, flinching as the sunlight hit her eyes. While they weren't light-sensitive anymore, she'd been inside the hospital for so long that the sun itself hurt a little.

Her eyes focused on Booth, who stood at the curb, the rear driver's side door of his Sequoia open. He offered her a smile, but she looked away rather than return it. She barely listened as Dr. Sommerset, who'd walked down with them, gave a few last minute instructions to Hodgins, as well as her prescriptions. A moment later, the doctor herself shifted in front of Angela, squatting a bit so that they were eye to eye.

"Angela, listen to me. Here's the number for the psychologist you've been talking to." She passed her a business card, smiling kindly. "And here's my number." A second card. "If you have any questions, or need to talk, or feel any pain at all, don't hesitate to call either of us, alright?"

Her dark gaze slowly lifted to the doctor's face, and she nodded faintly. "Thank you," she responded softly. The doctor nodded in return, and stood, giving Hodgins a sympathetic smile. "The same goes for you. If you have any questions, you can call either of us."

Hodgins nodded and shook the doctor's hand, then stepped closer to Angela. "Baby, it's time." Her gaze moved to him, and she swallowed hard, then stood slowly and began to walk towards Booth. As she reached the curb, he held out a hand to help her in, causing her to flinch backwards a little. "S-sorry . . ." She hated that her body had reacted that way. Still, she didn't take his hand, getting in and sliding into the middle. A few minutes later, Hodgins slid in beside her. Brennan walked around to the other side and sat next to her as well, and Cam got in the front passenger seat. Through the window past Hodgins, she watched as Sweets and Booth talked for a moment, before the psychologist walked back to his car, wheeling a cart that had all the flowers, cards, and stuffed animals that had been showered upon her while she was in the hospital. Booth shut the rear door, then walked around to the driver's side and slid behind the wheel.

"Everyone ready?" There was no answer. Biting back a sigh, he started up the vehicle and pulled away from the curb, checking once to be sure Sweets was following. For several minutes, they drove in silence, until he heard a faint whimper come from the back seat. His gaze shifted quickly to the rearview mirror, a question on his lips, when he bit back the words.

Angela was curled up in the middle, her right hand limp in Brennan's tight grip, and her head turned towards Hodgins, her face buried in the seat cushion of the back. His heart broke for her. People like Angela weren't supposed to go through things like this. Especially _his_ people. He glanced at Hodgins and blinked, realizing the man was staring right at him. As their eyes met in the mirror, he silently read the plea in the squint's gaze, begging him to drive faster, and he gave a faint nod. His eyes returned to the road, and his foot pressed the gas pedal closer to the floor, leaving Sweets in the dust.

He made it to Hodgins' estate in record time. When they pulled up, Hodgins immediately pushed open the rear driver's side door, stepping out. "Angie? Baby, we're here." It took a minute, but finally Angela slowly looked up, her hand sliding out of Brennan's grasp as she looked past Jack towards the house. Relaxing a little, she nodded faintly, sliding out of the car and standing. As he watched her take in her surroundings, he wanted desperately to advance, to pull her into his arms and never let her go. But even though she'd let him hold her the day before, she still shied away when he moved too fast. As Angela took a few steps away from the car, she seemed, somehow, shorter. It surprised and unnerved him, seeing this beautiful Amazon appear only as a frail shell of her former self.

Sweets pulled up behind them, getting out of the car and joining the group. It was then that Hodgins realized everyone else had gotten out as well. Sending Booth a look – _Take care of her_ – he turned and headed up to the door to unlock it. He'd sent the staff home for the day, not wanting to overwhelm Angela with too many people, discreet as they were.

Pushing open the door, he turned and went back to Angela. He reached out to put a hand on her back, but stopped in mid gesture. "Ready to go in?" She looked at him and he forced himself to maintain his smile in the face of her blank stare. Unsure as to whether or not she heard him, he started to repeat the question, but she nodded before he could.

"Yeah . . ." It felt good to be home. Safe. Almost. Taking a deep breath, Angela glanced around at her friends and coworkers. "Um. Thanks for . . . everything." Inside, she wished desperately she could say more. She wanted to, honestly. She didn't want to feel the panic that had begun to churn in her stomach, caused by the presence of so many. Slowly she turned back towards the house and headed inside. Hodgins followed.

Booth's eyes watched the two until he could no longer see them, noting that Hodgins left the door open. Finally he turned to Cam, Bones, and Sweets. "Alright guys. Let's get her stuff inside and then leave the two alone." They all nodded, and the group began unloading Sweets' car.

Inside, Hodgins followed Angela slowly, watching her as she headed upstairs to the room they shared, staying a few feet away. Angela knew what he was doing, giving her space. She hated that he felt it necessary. She could tell that she hurt him, everytime she looked away, or flinched, or shuddered; she despised her own body for treating him this way. She wanted so much to be herself again, but that didn't seem like it would happen anytime soon, if ever.

When they had both reached their bedroom, she stood for a moment near the window, watching as Booth's and Sweets' vehicles drove off. Her eyes shifted focus, studying herself in the window pane, then shifted, catching sight of Jack behind her. She took a deep breath and turned, crossing the room to him and stepping into his arms. Her eyes slid shut as his arms came around her, and the breath was let out slowly. Here was home. Jack shut his own gaze and rested his chin against her hair. She was home.

They both had tears in her eyes when she broke away only a few minutes later, unable to handle the hug for too long.


End file.
